


Carnal Desires

by create_serenity (Sivany)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sivany/pseuds/create_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was typical of Draco’s life that he should get everything he ever wanted, whilst at the same time getting nothing he ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnal Desires

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** Thank you to my beta **avrildulac** for all her work on this story. Thank you to **lomonaaeren** for the prompt as well. This is basically filthy porn, but with a side serving of angst. I think probably slightly more angst than you were going for but I hope you like it anyway.

Draco whirled his wand, sending a rope of fire lashing across the rooftop towards their unseen attackers.

There were two, or possibly three. It was hard to tell because the assailants, however many there were of them, were using Disillusionment Charms so strong that Harry and Draco could only detect their presence as occasional faint glimmers in the air when they cast a spell.

It was making it hard to attack them, and even harder to defend themselves.

Draco risked a glance at Harry, who stood just a few feet away, a look of grim determination etched into his handsome features. Harry: not Potter. He hadn’t been Potter for years now, not since Ron had quit the Aurors and Draco had replaced him as Harry’s partner. It had taken a few months but eventually they’d realised that when they worked together they made a pretty good team. Then they’d realised that actually they were pretty good as friends as well. After that Draco had come to the inevitable conclusion that Harry was everything he had ever wanted in a lot of other ways. The problem was that whilst Harry was almost certainly gay, he was just as certainly not interested in Draco.

Draco left the situation well alone, because he valued their friendship more than anything in the world.

He valued their working relationship nearly as much. That they were the best Aurors in the Department was indisputable; and whilst their record was certainly not flawless they had more successes and fewer injuries to their names than any other Auror team going.

Unfortunately it didn’t look like this mission was going to be one of them.

“Look out!” Harry yelled, casting a Shield Charm to block what looked like another Stunning Spell heading their way. Draco whisked around, cast another fire whip in the direction it had come from and concentrated on duelling as hard and as fast as he could.

Spells and jinxes flew in every direction, there seemed to be two main points of origin, which worried Draco because he was becoming more and more convinced that there had been three of them, and if one wasn’t casting spells it meant they couldn’t see him, nor did they know what he was up to.

A sudden jet of light caught his eye, coming from a new direction, heading straight for Harry’s left shoulder.

“Harry!” Draco leapt towards him, casting a Shield Charm to intercept the spell. It didn’t work. The spell cut through it, just as the Killing Curse would have done, and hit Harry squarely on the shoulder.

“Harry!” Draco shrieked again, as his partner stumbled and nearly fell, then twisted to look at him. There was a split second where the world seemed to stand still and Draco felt a fleeting sense of relief. Harry was alive. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, his wand whirling in an arc towards Draco, then Draco felt the thud of a spell slamming into his chest and his whole body was lifted and hurled backwards through the air.

It was an odd sensation. He was falling, and then he was falling some more, long past the point where he should have landed on the roof, and his stomach flipped as he opened his eyes and realised he’d fallen beyond the edge of the building and was now hurtling towards the ground below.

His first thought was for Harry and he looked frantically back up at the parapet to see Harry standing there. He waved his wand and Draco felt his fall slow to a stop, just when he was convinced he must surely be about to hit the ground. He dropped the last couple of feet as if he’d merely fallen out of bed, and was on his feet in an instant.

“Look out!” he yelled a second time, for in saving him Harry had taken his attention off their attackers and now Draco could see a shimmer in the air right behind Harry.

The man didn’t even bother with a spell. From his vantage point far below, Draco was sure he had simply pushed Harry over the edge, and Harry fell, plummeting towards the ground at what seemed like a frighteningly fast speed to Draco. He raised his wand, shouted the spell to arrest his fall and was running toward him before he’d come to a halt.

Three different spells zinged off the concrete behind him as he leapt for Harry, wrapped his arms around him and Apparated them away.

********************

Harry had been unconscious for nearly four hours now and for most of that time Draco had sat beside his bed, clutching his hand.

The unconsciousness was the result of the spell that had hit Harry right before Draco had fallen; it had simply taken some time to completely take affect. It was also a spell for which there was no counter-curse. All they could do was wait for it to wear off and the Healers had warned that the effects could be somewhat interesting.

Carnal Desires – that was what the Healers had called the curse. For the next twenty-four hours at least Harry was going to feel the all-consuming, completely undeniable urge to do whatever his body most needed to do at the time.

He’d eat the moment he was hungry, he’d fall asleep the second he got tired, he’d fight like a wild animal at the merest hint of perceived danger and his emotions would be wildly out of control. The Healers had said all this, and yet Draco had very much got the feeling there was something they were not telling him at the same time. He’d wondered if that was because they didn’t know themselves.

They didn’t seem to know a lot of things when it came to this curse. Things like, how long Harry would remain unconscious, or exactly how long the curse would last. Twenty-four hours was a guess based on similar curses, not a time based on previous experience. The curse was so rare that no one really knew how the effects would play out. Draco had got angry when the Chief Healer had said that because it had been followed by significant glances and suggestions that Harry might be dangerous and out of control enough that they would need to lock him away in the Janus Thickey Ward. _For his own safety_ , they’d said. Draco had told them to go fuck themselves.

It was why he’d been sitting here ever since, determined not to leave until Harry woke up because he knew Harry would never be a danger to him and he was absolutely not going to let them lock Harry up in the loony bin upstairs, even if it meant he had to take him home and personally look after him himself.

He shifted and glared accusingly at the sandwich in his other hand, as if it might somehow be able to tell him how it had come to be there. He vaguely remembered Granger and Weasley dropping by, Granger waddling around in a most ridiculously pregnant way, and very probably forcing the sandwich into his hand at some point before she’d left. It was cheese, which was Harry’s favourite, but certainly not Draco’s favourite. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

A groan from the direction of the bed tore Draco’s attention away from the offending sandwich and back towards his Auror partner with frightening speed. Harry opened his eyes, blinked under the glare of the lights and then muttered something that sounded very like, _“I’m hungry.”_

Draco sagged in relief. It was typical that Harry’s first thought should be of his stomach, and that meant that the person who had woken up _was_ Harry and not the half crazed lunatic that the Healers seemed to have been expecting.

Whilst Draco was processing this Harry had struggled into a sitting position, still looking dazed, but at least looking very much himself, at least until his eyes fell on the sandwich clutched in Draco’s hand.

Before Draco could ask how he was feeling, or perhaps help him to get comfortable, or suggest a soothing drink of water, Harry had jerked forwards, snatched the sandwich out of Draco’s hand and stuffed almost half of it into his mouth in one go. He chewed frantically, swallowed much sooner than could possibly be good for him and then took another overly large bite.

Draco wrinkled his nose, brushed a few crumbs off his robes and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now? He was pretty sure this was an effect of the curse, since Harry didn’t usually steal food from him without at least making a few vaguely humorous comments about how Draco didn’t eat enough to keep a kneazle alive, and though Draco wasn’t completely enamoured of Harry’s usual eating habits, this really did take the biscuit. Or sandwich, in this case.

Three more bites later and Harry suddenly stopped, shooting Draco a horrified look as the sandwich fell from his suddenly limp fingers.

“What the fuck am I doing, Draco?” he said, his voice sounding raspy, “Did I just steal your sandwich?”

“Yes, you did, and dropped it all over the bed I might add.” He cleaned it up with a swish of his wand, because really there were _standards_ one should maintain even when one was in St Mungo’s having been struck down by a rare and complicated curse.

“I need water,” Harry gasped, sounding pained, and Draco shoved a glass of water into his hands just as he started clutching at his throat as if he were dying of thirst.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Harry said, once he’d drunk the water so fast that Draco was convinced more of it had gone down the sheets than down his throat.

“You’ve been cursed,” Draco said, thinking it was probably pointless to beat around the bush at this point, “You’re going to get the urge to do things and then just do them. You won’t be able to stop yourself.”

Harry looked alarmed, as Draco thought was only sensible, but then Harry had to go and ruin it by blurting out, “You fell! Did they hurt you? Did you get hit too? Are you all right?” in a voice that sounded high and frantic and like he cared more for Draco’s welfare than he did for his own, which did absolutely nothing for Draco’s state of mind and made his heart thud painfully in his chest. Why the fuck did Harry have to be so unselfish all the time? Didn’t he know what he was doing to Draco?

“I’m fine,” he managed, in the end, but he thought his voice sounded a good deal more strangled than he’d hoped. He cleared his throat. “How do you feel?” he asked tentatively, “Any…. urges?”

To his relief Harry frowned thoughtfully as if examining something internally and then dropped back against the pillows shaking his head and still frowning.

“What do you mean?” he asked, “What’s the curse? Why haven’t they undone it?”

“No counter-curse I’m afraid,” Draco shook his head. “You’re just going to have to wait for it to wear off and until then the Healers said you need to be careful. You’re going to do whatever your body gets the urge to do without giving it any thought. That’s why you stole my sandwich, you were hungry and there was food available, so you ate it.”

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I felt like I’d die if I didn’t eat the sandwich,” he muttered, and Draco was left chewing his lip for a while, unsure exactly how to respond because words of sympathy had never been his forte, until Harry’s head suddenly snapped up.

“This is awful. What if I get the sudden urge to fuck a Hippogriff!” he exclaimed, which was so unexpected that Draco very nearly fell off his chair, something which he hadn’t done since… well, since that time he really didn’t want to think about.

He squeezed his eyes shut against that image and tried to keep his voice even. “Have you ever felt the urge to fuck a Hippogriff before?” he asked, trying not to replace the mental image of the past with an equally disturbing one of a possible future.

“Well, no,” Harry conceded, much to Draco’s relief, “But what if that’s what the curse makes me do?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” said Draco, opening his eyes and regarding Harry with a half smirk. The fact that fucking a Hippogriff had been Harry’s first thought was going to give him quite a lot of ammunition for the future, just as soon as this curse had worn off. “I think you’ll just get the urge to do normal things. Eat. Sleep. Run away from danger. That sort of thing.”

“Right,” said Harry faintly, and then seemed to rally. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. It will wear off right?”

“Twenty-four hours they think,” Draco said, rolling his eyes at the look of mischievous delight that had spread over Harry’s features. He couldn’t see anything to delight in, and he really hoped that the look of mischief was nothing to do with Hippogriffs.

“So for twenty-four hours I’m going to get sudden urges and feel like I’m dying until they’re fulfilled?” he asked thoughtfully. Draco nodded mutely. “And obviously someone is going to have to ensure my desires are fulfilled because who knows what will happen if they’re not?” Draco nodded again, not really seeing where Harry was going with this. “So basically for the next twenty-four hours someone has to wait on me and help fulfil my every wish?” Draco didn’t nod this time, because understanding was beginning to dawn, but Harry was not to be put off. “And since you’re here and you’re my Auror partner, who really should have done more to stop the curse hitting me in the first place, I suppose you’re going to take on that role?”

Draco didn’t nod this time because Harry’s words had hit him like a blow to the stomach. It _was_ his fault. He should have done more to prevent Harry getting cursed. It was because of him Harry was here, and what’s more Harry knew it and was placing the blame firmly on him. For one heart stopping moment the weight of his guilt almost crushed him.

Harry meanwhile was still rambling on about how he might get sudden urges for cream cakes and back massages and generally seemed to find the whole thing very amusing. Draco didn’t.

He shoved his chair back from the bed as unwanted, and he thought unwarranted, tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

“I tried to stop it,” he said, not even sure whether Harry would even know what he was talking about. “I tried. And I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”

He turned and fled from the room, ignoring Harry when he called his name.

********************

He didn’t return to St Mungo’s. Had he received word that Harry had been locked up in the Janus Thickey Ward he would have returned in an instant, but since no word came, he didn’t return. Let the Healers take care of Harry.

He, Draco, did not deserve to be anywhere near him.

He brooded on this thought, and about how it was his fault Harry had been cursed, and how it was his fault Harry had been pushed off the roof, and how it was his fault the criminals had escaped, until he felt as if he was going mad with the sheer force of his guilt. It was only when Weasley’s head appeared in the Floo, anxious and babbling on about how Harry had broken out of St Mungo’s and disappeared, and how he needed Draco to go check whether Harry had gone home because Hermione was having some sort of weird pregnancy problem that Draco hadn’t been inclined to pay attention to, that Draco snapped out of his wallowing and Apparated to Harry’s with a panicked crack.

He felt the wards give and let him through instantly; it was a long time since Harry had keyed him into them, not seeming at all offended when Draco hadn’t returned the favour. Then Draco was standing in Harry’s living room gazing vaguely at the soft furnishings and wondering why Harry had left St Mungo’s at all.

There was a muffled noise from upstairs and Draco drew his wand before heading out into the hall to look up the flight of steps to the upper floor. All was quiet now, but Draco gripped his wand tighter, and cautiously placed his left foot on the bottom step. There was no creak, but there was a noise that sounded very much like Harry in pain and Draco gave up all attempts at concealment. He took the steps two at a time, flinging himself through the door he knew led to Harry’s bedroom and then stopping short at the sight in front of him.

Harry was lying on his stomach, completely naked and apparently sobbing into the pillow.

“Harry?” he said cautiously, stopping short, but keeping his wand in his hand just in case. In response Harry’s whole body convulsed as if Draco had applied a shocking spell to his back and he turned his head towards Draco. He hadn’t been sobbing after all, but his whole faced was flushed with… with something.

“Come here,” he gasped, and Draco felt compelled to move closer, if only because Harry’s eyes looked so desperate he thought refusing might cause him distress. What the hell was going on?

“Harry, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be in St Mungo’s,” he said, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He considered whether to give Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but decided against it because even in this state, and even knowing that this behaviour was some weird side-effect of the curse, the sight of Harry naked was almost too much for Draco to take. His cock was already taking an interest in the scene, and Draco thought that if his hand actually came into contact with Harry’s skin it would definitely be a step too far.

“Fuck me.”

“What?” Draco blinked and reeled back, sliding off the bed in his haste and only just reacting in time to stand up rather than end up in an ungainly sprawl on the floor.

“Fuck me.”

There were those words again, coming out of Harry’s mouth.

“What?” repeated Draco, when nothing more eloquent sprang to mind.

Harry sighed in exasperation, pushed himself up onto his knees and made a grab for his own arse. Draco followed the movement and wondered how the hell he’d missed that... that thing sticking out of Harry’s arse, all long and thick and very much dildo shaped. His cock twitched treacherously and Draco tore his gaze away, accidentally noticing Harry’s cock on the way. It was huge and swollen and leaking and when Draco managed to look away he noticed that it was dripping onto what already appeared to be a rather large damp patch on the bed.

“I need you to fuck me, Draco,” Harry gasped, and whilst Draco resolutely refused to look, he could tell by the movements of Harry’s shoulders that he’d decided not to wait for Draco but was already pumping the toy in and out of his arse in smooth, steady strokes.

“What?”

Merlin he really had lost the power of speech. _‘What?’_ seemed to be the only word he was able to form.

Harry groaned again and sped up his movements a little. “It’s the curse,” he gasped, in between quiet little moans of pleasure that seemed to be wired straight to Draco’s cock. “I’ve come twice already. I can’t stop. I need someone to fuck me.” His face creased into what looked like pleasurable agony and Draco saw a little shudder run down his spine. “Please, Draco.”

It was unfortunate that the only thing Draco could think to say was, “You’ve come twice and you’re still hard?” Although he reflected that it was at least better than another, _‘What?’_

“It’s the curse!” Harry gasped frantically and sped up the movement of his hand, pumping the toy in and out of his arse faster. Draco found his eyes dragged unwillingly back to the sight and watched in fascination as the thing disappeared into Harry’s tight hole. In, out, stretch, slide. All the blood in Draco’s body rushed to his cock and it was now more than interested – it was straining against his trousers and begging to be let out.

“I’m going to come again,” Harry gasped suddenly, “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

Draco tore his gaze away from the toy long enough to look at Harry’s straining cock, which was stiff and proud against his stomach, even though Draco was pretty sure gravity should have it hanging down at least a little. Harry gave one last strangled gasp and came hard, the white liquid shooting out over his skin, dripping down onto the quilt, even as Harry collapsed bonelessly back down, burying his face in the pillow again. He shuddered and trembled, and let out little noises that sounded like half sobs, until Draco thought that listening to them was going drive him out of his mind if he didn’t release his own cock from the confines of his clothes right now.

Still, it seemed he’d left it too late, because that had been a spectacular orgasm, and there’d been a lot of come, even for someone with… equipment the size of Harry’s, and surely coming three times was more than enough for any man? Hell, once was enough for most men.

“Shit,” Harry swore, bringing Draco’s attention away from his own arousal and back to the figure on the bed. “Shit, Draco, why didn’t you just fuck me? I need someone to fuck me.” His tone was accusatory and Draco was glad to be back on safer ground, where he and Harry could have one of the pointless arguments that punctuated their easy friendship.

“You seem to have managed fine without me,” he pointed out, and attempted a sneer, which was more difficult than he’d suspected when he could still feel his own cock throbbing in his trousers. “Now that you’ve quite finished, perhaps you can tell me why you aren’t in St Mungo’s?”

“I needed to wank, Draco!” Harry said, turning his head so his face was no longer buried in the pillow and his voice was no longer muffled, “It was one of those urges. Did you really expect me to wank there?”

It was a good point. Draco couldn’t imagine a hospital bed was the nicest place to have a wank.

“All right, fine. You needed to wank. Now you’ve sorted yourself out maybe you can get dressed and go back,” he said, in what he thought was a reasonably logical fashion.

“I _needed_ to wank,” Harry said, managing to subject Draco to a withering stare, even as he rolled over onto his back. By the time he’d made it and Draco’s eyes had been unstoppably drawn to Harry’s crotch Draco was even more impressed by the glare. How could anyone glare like that when their cock was… _like that?_

“Now I need someone to fuck me,” Harry added, as if this was obvious, “Fucking myself isn’t working, Draco. I need you to fuck me. Oh Merlin…”

He screwed up his face, flipped himself over and started pumping the toy frantically in and out again, his expression something akin to panic.

“Fuck Draco, I can’t resist it. I need to be fucked.” He wasn’t starting slow this time, and that sight combined with the fact that Harry’s cock was still standing proud against his stomach and still huge and red and practically throbbing before Draco’s eyes, did unspeakable things to Draco’s brain.

“Fuck me.” Harry insisted and his arm gave way, leaving him with his face in the pillow and his arse in the air and his hand still frantically working the toy in and out as if he was never going to stop.

 _“Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.”_ Draco heard from somewhere in the depths of the pillows.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” he gasped, because it was the only thing he could reasonably say at this point. His body seemed to be screaming _yesyesyes,_ whilst his brain – somewhat quicker on the uptake, and realising that whilst this was his physical fantasy come true, it certainly was not the circumstance in which any of his many fantasies had taken place – was screaming _nonono!_ He certainly didn’t want the one and only time he would get to fuck Harry to be him basically functioning as a substitute sex toy – or substitute cock, depending on how you looked at it, since the sex toy clearly wasn’t working.

He had wanted Harry for so long, longer than he even cared to remember. He wanted to touch him, hold him, caress him. He wanted to fuck him senseless and then kiss him back to life. He wanted to hold hands with him under the stars and talk to him by the light of a fire. He wanted everything Harry could give him because Harry was everything he had ever wanted.

He wanted him, but not like this.

“ _Please_ , Draco,” Harry gasped, twisting his neck, still working his arse frantically. It was probably the shine of tears in his eyes that made Draco cave in – if he didn’t fuck Harry when the hell would Harry ever be able to stop? And come to think of it, if he didn’t fuck Harry right now, there wouldn’t even be a one and only time.

Also, if he didn’t fuck Harry right now he was probably going to have to go home and spend the next few days, or possibly few weeks, wanking himself absolutely raw over the images that were now fixed in his head and very likely to become part of his fantasies in the future.

Harry’s expression changed to one of such sweet relief when Draco started tearing off his own clothes that Draco very nearly didn’t regret that this was happening. And a few moments later when he was kneeling behind Harry, easing his hand and the toy away and staring at the pink hole that he would soon get to bury his aching cock inside, he found he regretted it even less.

“Fuck,” he swore, and Harry pushed himself up onto his hands again and thrust back with his hips, in obvious invitation.

“I need you to fuck me right now, Draco, not next week,” he growled, which was a horrible reminder to Draco that he would never get a repeat of this and he strongly suspected that if he hadn’t been so turned on by this point that he wasn’t sure he was going to last long enough to actually solve Harry’s problems, his erection would have seriously wilted at the thought.

As it was he cast a quick lubrication spell, lined himself up and pushed inside before he could rethink what he was doing and cause them both further problems.

“Fuck,” he repeated, as his cock was encased in Harry’s heat, tight and slick, prepared enough that he could slip easily inside, but not so overstretched that it didn’t feel incredible.

“Oh, yes,” Harry sighed, and the relief, and sheer ecstasy in his voice, as if Draco had just given _him_ everything he had ever wanted, nearly made Draco come on the spot. “Oh, Draco, _yes,_ ” he added, which did little to help the situation.

Draco held still for as long as he could, not for Harry’s sake, but for his own, trying to get himself accustomed to the feeling of his cock being so tightly gripped before he started moving. It was only when other thoughts, about how this was so wrong, and how he was practically using Harry to fulfil his private fantasies, even whilst Harry was using him as a convenient fuck, started to slip through, that Draco gave up the effort and started to move.

“Oh yes,” Harry said again, this time much louder.

Draco rocked his hips forward, thanking Merlin that the unwelcome thoughts had at least staved off his release for now, and began fucking Harry in earnest. Every thrust seemed to bury him further and deeper in the glorious heat of Harry’s body, and as Harry’s breathless pants turned first into moans of desire and then into mindless expletives Draco decided that if this was as close as he was ever going to get to his fantasy he’d certainly take it.

“Harder, Draco. Fuck me harder,” Harry demanded, and Draco slipped his hands from Harry’s arse and round to the front of his hips, gripping them tightly and pulling them back every time he thrust forwards, increasing the force and the speed and having to grit his teeth against the urge to just empty himself into Harry’s body.

There was so much heat. Heat wrapped around his cock, the heat of Harry’s skin under his hands, the heat curling and coalescing in his groin, threatening to explode at any moment, and the heat which seemed to burn through his own skin, filling him with the desire to press close to the man underneath him.

“Fuck, Draco, so good. Fuck, I needed this. Harder,” Harry babbled, seeming to lose control of his arms once again as he dropped his head into the pillows and thrust back against Draco. “Harder, come on, I need it harder.” He was half sobbing now, writhing and thrusting underneath Draco, a sheen of sweat covering his back as Draco found new strength and pounded into him all the harder, his mind starting to cloud in the face of his overwhelming desire.

“Don’t touch my cock, Draco. I need to come,” Harry gasped, which seemed rather a contradiction to Draco, even through the haze of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to explode, I’m going to fucking come, Draco. Fuck you feel so fucking good.” It was that which sent Draco over the edge. He gave two more hard thrusts and came into Harry’s arse, which seemed to be enough for the man beneath him. Even in the throes of his own pleasure Draco felt Harry tense and then come with a wild cry, lashing spurts of white hot liquid over the bed and his chest, emptying himself completely as he shuddered and spasmed and his arse clenched down on Draco’s cock so tightly that Draco felt another spurt of come burst from it.

By the time the pleasure had lessened to a level that enabled him to think they were both shaking and trembling and at some point Draco found he had collapsed on top of Harry, squashing the man into the bed beneath him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, rolling off, the haze drawing back just enough for him to begin to feel that the whole situation was awkward and embarrassing.

“Fuck, Draco, that was…” Harry didn’t actually finish his sentence. When Draco glanced over he was staring at him as if he’d never seen him before, eyes slightly glazed and cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Thanks,” he said and directed his own gaze towards his crotch. Naturally Draco’s went with it and he was impressed by Harry’s size even now his cock was limp and flaccid.

“No need to have another go then,” he joked, rather lamely, in an attempt to relieve some of his awkwardness. Unfortunately he followed it up by blushing deeply, whilst Harry just looked confused, and to cover up his embarrassment Draco turned away and groped for his wand, casting a cleaning charm over them both.

“I’m tired,” Harry said, as soon as he’d finished. The words were almost a relief to Draco, who knew that whilst Harry was still under the curse there was only one inevitable conclusion to those words.

Sure enough when he turned Harry’s eyes were already closed and his breathing seemed to have evened out. Carefully Draco climbed off the bed and managed to extract the covers from under Harry enough to tuck them around his naked form. If he shuddered when his fingers brushed over the bare skin of Harry’s back, he tried to pretend he didn’t.

He dressed quickly, tried not to reflect on the fact that whilst physically it had been one of the best orgasms of his life, emotionally it had been one of the least satisfying. He’d fucked Harry, but that was all it had been – a fuck. Tomorrow they would go back to being friends, good friends, but nothing more. The thought would have been enough to make him cry, had he not been Draco Malfoy. As it was the water leaking from his eyes was probably just due to dust in the air, or the cleaning charm he’d used, or some other equally likely explanation.

He would go home; he would tell Weasley Harry was safe. Then he would attempt to forget this had ever happened, although probably not before he’d had a wank.

It was typical of his life, he reflected as he Floo’d away, that he should get everything he ever wanted, whilst at the same time getting nothing he ever wanted.

He wondered if that would ever change.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined, comment here or at [LiveJournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/299813.html). Comments are ♥.


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